


Something Has Changed

by Rays_Of_Write



Series: Linked Universe Oneshots & Drabbles [10]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Prayer, Religious Themes, Wild (Linked Universe)-centric, yes we’re angry at Hylia but maybe there’s more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:43:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27199364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rays_Of_Write/pseuds/Rays_Of_Write
Summary: After his ‘sleep’ he had always felt more connected to Hylia and the wild. His soul traveled in the breeze that carried itself throughout the land of Hyrule and and the footsteps that he took were the heartbeats of the land. He could hear the great goddess speak, unlike before, but he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. It was a hard thing for him, to hear something so great, something that could have helped him, but didn’t.--A look into Wild and Hylia's relationship throughout his life, through some reflection upon events past.
Series: Linked Universe Oneshots & Drabbles [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777828
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Something Has Changed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Blu_Jay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Blu_Jay/gifts).



> Hope y'all enjoy, I really liked writing this fic!

Aside from the memories Wild gained, there were some rare things he could remember. Flashes of small memories, feelings he couldn’t quite explain that would pop up and run through his veins. They were prominent in battle, a certain rush as he backflipped and time bent to his will, although they struck him the most with the smaller things. A ping of curiosity as he caught a frog or an echo of an annoyed tone when someone commented on his form. The emotions came and went, and Wild got used to them over time, something that was normal for him. A certain weight in his hands as he held a sword, confusion when it shattered. A certain sense of pride when looking upon Hateno, but a weight that seemed to drag him down to the darkened dirt, tears clouding his face as he held the Mastersword. 

Wild often remembered the odd sense of a changed perspective bubbling up the first time he prayed to the statue of Hylia on the Great Plateau. As the light shined from the heavens above, pride and strength burst through his damaged heart. Perhaps it was just in the moment, a rush after learning of the Calamity, the King, and Zelda, then speaking to the goddess that let it all happen. 

It had always made him wonder how the little things had changed. Especially prayer. After his ‘sleep’ he had always felt more connected to Hylia and the wild. His soul traveled in the breeze that carried itself throughout the land of Hyrule and and the footsteps that he took were the heartbeats of the land. He could hear the great goddess speak, unlike before, but he couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not. It was a hard thing for him, to hear something so great, something that could have helped him, but didn’t. The light that shined from heaven, the light that Hylia blessed onto the land did not shine as guardians came, and the sky grew dark and red, a bloody moon bringing life to evil. The final guardian struck and he fell, but his soul did not. 

His soul was bound to his land forever, that was just the way it was. As the shrine healed him, his aura was free to roam the lands, sensing the destruction. That might have been why he could feel his old emotions. 

Fort Hateno had always rubbed him the wrong way, long before he saw the final memory. His soul would run from his body and the thups of the land grew fast paced as the trees remembered the fateful day the hero fell. The pathways would usher him out, fear that the guardians may come back with the next blood moon, rooted deep in the soil. 

A cold stream of begging ran through his veins. It had been the final time he spoke to Hylia before his soul roamed her waters, grass, and decaying buildings. It was a gasp for air from withering trees, a final laser from a guardian who had an ancient arrow aimed at its bright blue eye. A plea to Hylia to spare him and the princess so that they may save the land their reincarnations had built. Wild knew the great Goddess herself had turned down the request, thinking another way would be suitable. 

And that burned his soul that walked along the fields with horses and up waterfalls with zora. He —no— he and his princess together, could have saved many, many lives. His anger bubbled up whenever he found himself near Fort Hateno. Sweat found itself onto his face and his parries never worked. He wasted many ancient arrows in that spot for so few living guardians. The whole area was set on tearing him apart, limb to limb. Letting his sorrow fall to the ground in a heap of tears that would not come, and his rage get up, ancient bladesaw in his hands ready to destroy anything that came into his path. 

When the guardians of the area exploded in their sick way, red after a shining burst of blue, he’d fall to his knees and thank Hylia for letting him live. It might have been spite that caused him to do this, his anger still strong. Like a sick way of asking why as his heart healed with the burnt trees, hurt from the deathly, blue lasers. 

He’d bandage the seared bits of skin and take an elixir so his skin wouldn’t scar, as he cursed Hylia at the same time he thanked her. 

Hylia’s light would smile at him and help him up, parting the clouds and letting him breathe in the crisp air of success. 

And yet he was still bitter, his slate in his hand the moment it happened, turning into blue dust that floated in the wind, finding himself in Hateno and cooking a meal at his house. 

He never heard the sigh in the Goddess's voice, nor see the golden tears that slipped off her face, refreshing the land. Creases where her eyes squeezed together, her smile lines becoming frowns as her lip heaved out sobs. 

He didn’t know that when it rained Hylia’s breathing picked up and she wrapped a blanket of golden threads around her body with care, watching each drop of cool water expand as it fell. 

He didn’t know why the land shook as it rained, Hylia’s cries bellowing down into the dirt. 

Wild didn’t know why it rained so often in his Hyrule. 

And he never would, he would only see the light that shined onto the goddess statues as he got another heart container or stamina wheel. A gorgeous, almost rainbow as he spoke to her. 

The Goddess once told him only ones who were truly connected to the land could hear her through the statues and see the glorious light of good. He wasn’t sure he believed that, just like he wasn’t sure he believed another tale. 

It was said that the light arrows were crafted from the sacred goddess power of the triforce and the light that shined on Hylia in her times of grace. 

The more he thought about it, it could have been true. It seemed Hylia was always bathed in the light and there were many more light arrows then he could count. It was ironic, seeing as Zelda had once called him the light that would shine upon Hyrule, much like the Goddess. Perhaps it was just another way courage and wisdom found themselves connected, side by side. 

Maybe that was true, and acknowledging that Wild let himself stare at the statue with a mind of forgiveness. He blinked a few times recalling a day that seemed so long ago when he first found it on the Great Plateau, clothed in old, threadbare fabric that was a bit snug and short and his best weapon the hammer he found at Stasis. The goddess statue still looked the same, one hundred years could make a difference but not a single year could affect the statue. A dark forest green moss filled in the nooks and crannies and traveled across the worn and chipping stone. Throughout the many years the carving had managed to stay immaculate. The wings on the back were still perfectly cut and the eyes enough to seem as if he was really talking to Hylia and not just a statue sent in like a diplomat just to represent and speak for the great Goddess. 

Wild became more forgiving towards her over time, but a bit of hostility still found itself buried in the layers of his skin. He began to listen and notes floated in the air. As he spoke to the Goddess the wind played, almost conducted, a song, letting the whole of nature accompany it. The animals sang and the feet of Hylians, Gerudo, Rito, Sheikah, Goron, and Zora walked on the pathways of dirt, percussion against the land, creating a soft tempo. The Goddess would smile, playing a lyre as she spoke to him. 

Wild loved the song and would hum it, his quick feet and pace adding to the tempo. In a way it sounds like the land, how it would sing, but it also had a hint of familiarity. Some of the notes were similar in sound to Zelda’s Lullaby and it was all more present when Hylia joined with her instrument. 

Wild had learned that Sky had written it for his Zelda. Maybe the heroes could hear the Song of Hyrule, as he called it. The three reincarnations were stuck in an endless cycle and were tied to the land, maybe they could hear it as well. The spirit of courage was the green of the land, the grass and the dark forests they ventured through, the wind against his hair as his shield surfed down a declining field. The wisdom that coursed through the veins of the royals with the blood of the goddess was the water that led to new lands, and filled the winding rivers. Water carried the words from the beginning of time, listening to the goddess as it dripped from her cheeks. Hylia helped the water learn and grow through her own pain. Without the clear blue water there would be no green. The Hero needed the Princess. The power that corrupted Ganon time and time again was the red in the sunsets, which brought night, the hours of darkness upon Hyrule. And yet bits of red could worm themselves into the sunrises, when Ganon tried to either escape or win. Neither had ever happened, as when the day came it brought light to the land and let the water rise to the heavens and the green to grow. Without the cycle of night and day, the power, the sunset and sunrise bringing the two, there would be no green land nor blue water. No courage and no wisdom. It was a complex puzzle of the three, just like Hyrule. 

And he let himself bend further to the ways of Hylia, traveling her lovely fields with her lovely horses. He could understand so much more. It was like he had access to locked away emotions. 

He now could feel one more thing as he stared up at the statue. A strength, something deep rooted in his heart. It was how he felt back 100 years ago, praying to Hylia, to ask for strength and will to complete his task. 

Sometimes it hurt to think about how things had changed and sometimes it didn’t, happy how he was now. He had been told by many who knew of his sleep that it had been necessary for him to become himself, the true Hero of the Wild— the one who could shoot five arrows simultaneously in his sleep, that would ride a bear to the end of Hyrule. Zelda had been one of those people to tell him that, and he always said the same in return, even if neither of them believed it. 

The water and grass sensed whenever they lied to themselves, like Nayru and Farore were sending a message along with Hylia. The grass pushed themselves up towards the heavens as if trying to strike confidence and will into his soul. Sometimes it worked, and he felt a rush of it into his soul, smiling in looking into the forest, bits of light peeking out from the holes in the tall trees, a gift from the Goddess. The water would form into waves and usher the Princess into the bay of Lurelin. It would tickle her feet, boots casted away to the side, feet sinking into the sand. The wind was filled with the scent of sweet flowers. The fresh water flowed up Zelda’s veins and put a smile on her face, as she looked out beyond, dreaming of days she could make reality. 

They had both learned a lot over the past year and had found their places 100 years later, including their place with Hylia. 

No longer would Wild stand in front of the statues and think about the things that had happened in a bad light; instead he would reflect upon them and hope for a better future. One that they could build with the light from the heavens to guide them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all liked it!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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